


Dedicated

by Spongyllama



Series: Asylum [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff, Getting Together, Happy Ending AU, M/M, Mentions of Mental Illness, Mutual Pining, Past Abuse, Past Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker, Self-Indulgent, Smut, but its classy smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24701545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spongyllama/pseuds/Spongyllama
Summary: Anakin is the most Force-sensitive person in the galaxy, and also the most oblivious. Obi-Wan cannot believethisis the person he had to fall for.On second thought, no — he could not have made a better choice.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Series: Asylum [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1767319
Comments: 109
Kudos: 385





	1. This Is What They Say

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to Asylum, but might be readable on its own. I welcome you to the lighthearted, sexy, lovey-dovey Obikin fic of my dreams. If you’re new to the ‘verse, and you just want these characters to get the happy ending they deserve, extend your imagination and hunker down. If anything’s confusing just go with the flow. Here’s the AU:
> 
> Winter Soldier AU. Deviates from canon in TCW “Shadow Warrior” when Padmé refuses the prisoner exchange of Anakin for Grievous. The Sith fake his death, brainwash him into becoming Vader by removing his memories through electrical torture. Obi-Wan takes over Ahsoka’s training. “Vader” meets Obi-Wan, doesn’t remember him, things happen, he escapes, long recovery, more things happen, Sith go bye-bye and now everyone is free to live happily ever after. Also, Obi-Wan painstakingly learns that attachment ain’t bad and quits the council to be the Jedi he wants to be. 
> 
> This, then, is that happy ending.

* * *

_this is what they say_

_falling in love’s supposed to feel like_

* * *

The two years after the destruction of the Darth Sidious was, Anakin thought, probably the best his life had ever been.

Actually, there wasn’t even really a debate. It wasn’t even a question. He was _free_ now, and that thought never ceased to amaze him. He had grown so unbearably used to being used, being owned, being controlled, that to have the only person making decisions about his life be _himself_ — it was all he’d ever wanted for years and years and years.

He wasn’t a Jedi. He had made the decision a long time ago that if they asked him back after his stint with the Sith, he’d say no. And asked him Yoda had. _Still wish you not to be a Jedi?_ But Anakin had thought about it, agonized over it, and realized it was for the best. He still lived in the temple, welcomed there by Yoda and the Council — perks of being the one to balance out the Force, he guessed — but he rejoiced in not having to take orders, not having any expectations. Free to live life the way _he_ wanted to.

It was true that he missed action, missed excitement, missed flying. As bored as he got, however, it was worth not being subject to orders and rules. _He_ was his own and only master now. Regardless, he had a good relationship with the Jedi, and was grateful to have a home here in the temple. Not having anywhere else to go, he’d stayed to spend time with the Force, to study and learn, and to heal. And he’d had a lot of healing to do. Most of all, though, he’d stayed to be with Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka. That was what truly kept him here, even as an outsider. _They_ were. But the tranquil, healing presence of the Force now, during a time of balance, made it easy not to doubt his path.

Obi-Wan remained in the Order, continuing to teach Ahsoka in what appeared to be the waning days of her apprenticeship. Nineteen, now, she was quite ready to be knighted, but with the conclusion of the Clone War the Council was making an effort not to rush promotions _too_ quickly along. But it was also true that many Jedi had died in the war, a good handful of them by Anakin’s own blade, and the struggles of the galaxy were not yet over. There were more trade disputes than ever, diplomatic missions and treaties being drafted all the time as old systems of the dissolved Confederacy insisted on remaining independent. As such Obi-Wan and Ahsoka frequently went off-world, with Anakin trying to keep busy while he longed for their return…. 

Occasionally, on the missions with less variables, he would sneak on along with them without _necessarily_ having the blessing of the Jedi Council…but, well, what they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them…. Sometimes he’d help out, or just fly for them, spend time with them, explore a new planet while they were off working. Keep an eye on them if they were in danger. Ahsoka thought it was fun. Obi-Wan thought it was fun, too, but he would never admit it.

Mostly, Anakin would stay home. He was given a space in one of the temple hangars and spent a third of his time there, fiddling with old war equipment that had no more use, refurbishing ships, building stuff. And when he would get jittery, he’d go off and explore the city, which was so enormously, ridiculously big there would never be a lack of things to see. Coruscant wasn’t _that_ interesting, and most of it looked the same, but there was some wizard stuff in the underworld, and a decent market for some of the things he built. Money wasn’t really important to him, never had been, but it was handy to have a chunk of credits for his hobbies or to buy Obi-Wan a new potted plant from a distant world.

He still got migraines, a permanent byproduct of an injured brain, the most notable lasting effect from a year of Sith torture — second to the amnesia, of course. But his memory had improved greatly, and while a substantial amount seemed to be lost for good he had mostly come to terms with it. Shadows of mental illness echoed throughout his life, but he wouldn’t really call himself particularly ill, anymore. He could take care of himself, he could remember to take his meds. The nightmares were the most of his suffering, but he thought that was normal for him. He hadn’t had a seizure in years and therapy had plummeted to once every month or two, just to keep things going. In the end, here and now, he’d built a wonderful new life for himself with which he was _almost_ entirely content.

Anakin wouldn’t say he was _lonely_ , necessarily, because he wasn’t alone by any means. He wasn’t exactly starved for touch or love, though truthfully he didn’t think there’d ever be enough of either. But in a way he _was_ starved for a certain _kind_ of touch, starved so desperately that some days he thought he might burst at his seams…starved for a certain _kind_ of love so overwhelming that he thought he would explode….

His path had been full bumps and bruises, and a lot of surprises. He had surprised himself by destroying the Sith, surprised himself by actually surviving every ridiculously absurdly horrible thing he had been through. More than anything, he’d been most surprised to find himself falling for Obi-Wan.

It had been far from sudden, Anakin thought in retrospect, but the realization of it definitely was. The truth of it all had dropped on him one day like a heavy tree branch in a hurricane, snapping him into to a newer, fresher reality. A brighter one, a happier one. 

It wasn’t anything earth-shattering that had made him realize. There was no big event, no visions, no life-or-death situation. All there was just one quiet night on Coruscant, a warm night, where they’d opened the door to their tiny balcony and let the stale city air blow a breeze through the apartment. They’d been watching a holoprogram, a documentary, nothing Anakin was too interested in but Obi-Wan had wanted to see it…Anakin remembered looking over at Obi-Wan, his head leaning back into the couch, asleep, face angled slightly in Anakin’s direction…Anakin had simply watched him, mesmerized, taking in the way Obi-Wan’s lips had parted, the sprigs of gray at his temples, the rise and fall of his chest….

No one else got to see Obi-Wan like this, Anakin had thought. Vulnerable. Soft. At ease. Fully, implicitly trusting. Best of all, a tiny little hint of drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. This was not the war hero general, the Negotiator, the Jedi Master. Just a friend. A companion. A partner. _His_ partner. Anakin’s.

There had been instances before that, he would admit, moments of weakness where he would look at Obi-Wan and imagine how his beard would feel against Anakin’s skin as they kissed, scratchy but soft, well-groomed. How Obi-Wan’s hands would feel as they raked against his bare skin. How they _did_ feel when they fingered through Anakin’s hair, or rested on his back, or simply brushed against his leg as they walked….

Loving Obi-Wan was nothing new, and Obi-Wan loving _him_ was nothing new. They were close, physically and emotionally and spiritually. The bulk of their free time was spent together. Doing lightsaber drills just for the rush of adrenaline, strolling or meditating or eating or just talking. About nothing, and everything. But that night, while he watched Obi-Wan sleep, light from the holo flickering over them peacefully, Anakin realized this was not _just_ love. Love was simple, easy, everywhere. What he felt now was both more complicated and simpler than that. Devotion. Commitment. Absolute certainty that he never wanted to spend a day apart from Obi-Wan again.

Really, it should have been obvious from the start, Anakin had thought stupidly when he realized. It _had_ to be Obi-Wan, of course it did. Obi-Wan had always filled the gaping hole in his heart. Obi-Wan had dedicated himself to Anakin fully and entirely _twice_ now. First to train him as a Jedi in the wake of his own master’s death, and later to nurse him back to good health after Anakin’s time with the Sith. It made sense, it was natural that he would feel this way. Obi-Wan made him feel safe and secure the way nothing or no one else ever could. And while he hadn’t _intended_ to have these feelings, it wouldn’t do to avoid them. He had not spent the last two and a half years in therapy only to repress his feelings now. He would not deny them. At least…not to himself.

Problem was, problem _was_ , what did he _do_ about them?

He couldn’t imagine that Obi-Wan might feel the same towards him. Anakin was his student, after all. His Padawan. Obi-Wan had known Anakin since the latter was a child. And to top it all off, Obi-Wan had been, even if he wasn’t now, a master on the Jedi Council. From what Anakin could tell as something of an outsider, Obi-Wan was a fantastic Jedi, even _with_ all the attachment stuff. He was kind and powerful and wise — and extraordinarily attractive — and widely respected and admired. He was independent and sure of himself and _civilized_. There was no reason he would be interested in Anakin in a way that the Jedi had taught him his entire life was wrong. 

Not to mention, Obi-Wan had seen Anakin at his worst. In the throes of Sith servitude, yellow-eyed and infected by the cancerous dark. Or agonizingly depressed, borderline catatonic, trapped in a constant memory of torture and murder, all the things he had been through and all the things he had done. Or completely incapacitated, having a seizure or a migraine or dissociating for hours at a time. There was no way, Anakin thought, Obi-Wan could be interested in him, romantically or sexually or _whatever_ , after seeing him like that. After rescuing him from the dark and essentially becoming his caregiver. Essentially being the only thing that had kept Anakin alive.

But. _But._ What if he _was?_

Obi-Wan loved him. That was a given. It was a stated fact, acknowledged by both parties. What’s more, Obi-Wan _had_ done all of that for him. _Had_ dedicated himself to Anakin. _Had_ taken care of him, kept him alive, held him for hours on end while he sobbed, trapped in his own mental prison. Obi-Wan had not only nursed him back to health, but had then helped him to become his best self. Helped Anakin to reach the full potential the Force had blessed him with and end the reign of the Sith, once and for all. And most importantly, Obi-Wan had done all that, each and every bit, not because he was obligated to, not out of duty, but because he had _wanted_ to.

Choice. That was what it all came down to. Obi-Wan had _chosen_ to do all of that. Because Obi-Wan loved him. And while he had a hard time admitting it, had difficulty expressing it verbally, Anakin knew. He knew it, because he felt it.

That was it, then. Even if Obi-Wan didn’t feel the way Anakin felt, even if he only loved Anakin as a friend, Anakin had to do something about it. He had to, because if he didn’t it would haunt him for the rest of his days.

There was only one last thing that held him back, one thing in the entire universe that gave him pause, that stopped him from running up to Obi-Wan the moment he returned home from his mission and dragging the answer out of him. That thing, as it turned out, was a person, and that person’s name was Padmé Amidala.

On her spacious veranda, enjoying a warm breeze that they agreed was just never quite fresh enough on this massive industrial city-planet, Anakin asked her, “We’re friends, right?”

Padmé twirled a lock of hair around her finger and laughed, and in the Force it was like a string of musical notes. “Is that really in question?”

No, to be fair, it wasn’t. Padmé had always been lovely to him, and she _was_ a great friend. She had integrity and courage and great insight into people. She was a lot happier now than she had been before the war ended, and it showed. She was practically glowing, enjoying her job in a way Anakin had never known her to during the war. She was beautiful, she was intelligent, she was kind — _and_ she was in love with him, and that was precisely the problem.

Okay, it wasn’t a _problem._ But it was an issue. Because he loved her, too, just not in the way he’d originally thought he would. It had all seemed like such a natural course of events. He’d escaped from Sidious’s servitude to find out he had a _wife_. Padmé loved him, they were nominally still married, and he did not blame her in the least for what she had done — refusing to accept Dooku’s prisoner exchange. The catalyst for Anakin’s time with the Sith. His time as Vader. Padmé had been, and still was, a public servant first and foremost, and Grievous had been a ruthless monster, and Anakin had, at the time, been a Jedi — he thought now, therefore, that he must have accepted it. That in the early phases of his captivity, now entirely erased from his memory, Anakin thought he must have forgiven her. So there it was. He did not blame her, he was not mad at her, he _did_ forgive her….

But it would always be _out there._ It would always be in his head, any time he might kiss her or touch her or get intimate, he knew he would never be able to erase it from thought. He would never be able to distance himself from the idea that despite her repentance, her guilt, her sincere heartfelt apologies, she had sacrificed him. Sacrificed him for a cause, yes, for the greater good, but sacrificed him nonetheless. Taken his autonomy away. And it wasn’t like she’d wanted to, and she’d _hated_ herself for it, falling deep into depression the same way he had, too…but it was still out there. He knew it, and she knew it. The damage had been done.

So that day on her veranda, when he confessed all of this to her, she gave him a loving but sad smile and told him that she understood.

“You do?”

“Absolutely,” she said, looking at him dead on. Yes, he felt suddenly. She did understand. “I had a feeling, honestly. That this would never happen between us, I mean.”

“I tried,” Anakin admitted. “I don’t know if that makes it better or worse for you, but you deserve the truth. I wanted to reciprocate, but I just can’t. I don’t.”

“I get it,” Padmé assured him. He could sense her sadness, her disappointment, but so could he sense something else. Almost…relief? “Although, if you don’t mind me asking…why are you telling me this now?”

He frowned. Hesitated. “There’s…someone.”

His sense of her lit up in surprise. _Someone?_ he heard her think, _who —_ and after a moment, she realized. Understanding visibly dawned on her and she sat back against the couch, not quite in shock but not quite _not._ “Obi-Wan.” It wasn’t a question.

“Obi-Wan,” he confirmed anyway, his mind immediately going off-world to wherever Obi-Wan was. To whatever he was doing. 

“Does he know?”

“Not yet.”

Padmé put a finger to her lips, tapping it there, thinking, analyzing. She did not speak again, but Anakin could not bear the silence. “I know you don’t like people reading your thoughts,” he said carefully, and her eyes slid to his. “But you’re relieved.”

She lowered her finger, her mouth twisting in thought, looking at him then looking away. “A little,” she confessed. 

“Why?”

Brown eyes flicked down now to her hands, at rest together in her lap. “I never wanted to say this,” she started slowly, pensive. “I didn’t want to tell you and then have it taint any possibility of us getting back together. Which, in hindsight, was selfish of me, but I guess I’m a selfish woman.”

He laughed. Nothing could be further from the truth. “What are you talking about?”

“Our relationship, Ani. From before. Our marriage. That’s just it — it wasn’t _really_ a marriage at all. Even when we got married, we knew — or I think we did anyway, that it was more of a commitment ceremony than anything else. But we…oh, Ani, we were not perfect for each other, no matter how much I wish we were. And I _do_ love you, and I will never _stop_ loving you, but we, you and I…we were not meant to be.”

She looked as if she were spilling secrets untold for generations. As if she had been bursting to let this all out, and true she probably had. She continued, “Keeping our relationship a secret was awful. I hated it. There was, sure, a certain charm and mystery to clandestine rendezvouses in my Senate office, or on a mission where we could be discovered any time. But we both had to sacrifice so much. I hated lying to my family, and you hated lying to Obi-Wan, who was _your_ family, and it was all so stressful to think that if we were found out, you’d be expelled because of me and I’d lose my job because of you….

“And it was worth it, it was, and I _loved_ you, and the year without you was the worst of my life, but we — Ani, we didn’t _know_ each other. Sometimes I’m not sure we really _liked_ each other. I mean, we did, of course we did, but we just didn’t have time to really be a couple. You’d come back from a mission and I’d be busy, or I’d have a day off right after you had to leave. We couldn’t go anywhere, or do anything. I wanted to hold hands with you in public, I wanted to be your _wife_ , I wanted tabloid pictures of us kissing on the holonet. But that’s not what we had. We had love and commitment and sex. I wanted to be _domestic._ I wanted to be happy and safe. I wanted to be sure that nothing could ever go wrong. And you —”

She stopped then, clamping her mouth shut, her eyes just barely widened. She looked away.

“What is it?”

A smile forced its way onto her face. “It’s nothing.”

“Padmé —”

“You scared me sometimes,” she blurted, looking back at him now and he could see in her eyes, even without the Force, that it was true. She hated herself for it, he felt, but she was entirely honest. “You did something, once, and I don’t know if you know about it but if you don’t I really should tell you….”

A mental image flashed in Anakin’s mind, a byproduct of her trepidation. Warm sands, anguish, fear. Tatooine. _Oh._ Yes, he thought he knew what she was talking about. _Mom._

“I’ll allow you to read my mind just this once,” she said knowingly, with a tiny smile, “Just so I don’t have to say it out loud.”

He nodded, looking away. “I don’t remember it, but Sidious told me. Obi-Wan didn’t believe him, but I knew it had to be true.” Shame roiled through him. “I knew because I knew I would do it again.”

“You don’t scare me anymore,” she promised, and he knew she meant it. “But you…I’m no psychologist, but in retrospect I think you needed a lot of help that no one was prepared to give you. I certainly wasn’t. I could give you my love, but I’m not sure it would have ever been enough.”

There was a hidden meaning behind her words, one she didn’t have to say. An implication that things may have gone wrong down the line, even if he hadn’t been kidnapped. That if he had committed mass slaughter once, he could do it again. 

If only she knew. Knew what Sidious had told them in their last encounter, of his great vision of a galactic empire with Anakin — no, with a twisted monstrous creature called _Darth Vader_ at the Sith Lord’s right hand. A lonely, empty shell of self-hatred with an unquenchable thirst for murder.

“You are a good person at heart,” Padmé said honestly, seeming to understand. “Maybe the goodest I’ve ever known. When I met you you were far from innocent but you were so kind. Selfless and thoughtful despite people telling you your whole life that you were property. _That_ is the person that you are, and to think that the Sith tried to take that away from you kills me. And you’re right — I know you’ve forgiven me, and I’m so grateful, I am, but I’m not sure I’ve ever forgiven myself. I don’t know if I ever will. And I don’t want that lurking over our relationship either. I think this is probably for the best.”

“Your support means everything to me,” Anakin said truthfully. “I hope this doesn’t interfere with our friendship.”

“It won’t,” she said. “I promise. Maybe I’ll find someone else, maybe I won’t, but Ani…I’m happy for you. Truly. And Obi-Wan is going to make you very, very happy. There is no one who deserves you more.”

And that was that. With Padmé’s blessing a great weight was lifted off Anakin’s shoulders, and now his yearning for Obi-Wan hit him in full force. As daily life continued and he worked on his ships, as he wandered the city, as he worked out, he thought of Obi-Wan. Thought of them spending a life together, growing old and gray, and he dreamt of them somewhere warm and sunny, living out the rest of their days in peaceful, domestic bliss.

Now…Anakin just needed to tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters, everything’s already written — posting probably once a weekend, maybe more often but definitely not less. I originally said this would be a oneshot but…people change (it just didn’t feel right)
> 
> Response to the end of Asylum was overwhelming to say the least, and this came pouring out. Stopped writing it exclusively to play Animal Crossing. Quarantine, ya basic but I’ll miss you
> 
> I’m only going to do this once, but here’s a teaser for the next chapter: “Obi-Wan Kenobi would admit that he was a bit of a flirt. It was fun, harmless, it came easy to him, and it was an effective way to relieve tension in difficult times.
> 
> Now, that said, all those years of flirting under his belt — he still found himself completely and entirely taken aback when one day, of all people, Anakin started flirting with him."


	2. This Love Isn't Crazy

* * *

_this loving could save me_

_this love isn’t crazy_

* * *

Obi-Wan Kenobi was no stranger to flirting. He’d done his fair share of it over the years — with Ventress on the battlefield, with monarchs of planets on a mission where he needed a favor.Even, in his time, with a politician or two. Mostly it was all in good fun — a simple, but effective way to brighten up a dull, or dark, or morose situation. And sometimes…well, sometimes it was for another purpose. Obi-Wan would admit many things about himself — humility, a prowess in combat, a knack for negotiation. He would also admit, without shame, that he had enjoyed a fair few rendezvouses in his time.

Sex was not forbidden for a Jedi, by any means. Sex that formed attachments, certainly, although he had not-so-recently found himself distanced from that certain line of the Jedi Code. There was an unspoken agreement around the temple that engaging in a healthy physical encounter with another was perfectly acceptable, be they another Jedi or otherwise, and as such Obi-Wan would concede that he was a bit of a flirt. He enjoyed it. It came easy to him, and was an excellent way to relieve tension.

Now, all that said, all those years of flirting under his belt, all the nights he had spent with others — still he found himself completely and entirely taken aback when one day, of all people, Anakin started flirting with him.

They were in their chambers, hidden away in the temple residential area, Anakin fiddling with some droid and Obi-Wan idling on a datapad. Mindless activity, and all the while they spoke in passive, ordinary conversation, until —

“Have you ever been in a relationship?”

Obi-Wan was so terribly caught off guard by the question that he actually laughed. “Where on Coruscant did that come from?”

Anakin shrugged, screwing in a part on his mechanical creation, a small smile playing at his lips. “Just figured, y’know, even after all this time you know me a little better than I know you.” 

“That’s true, I suppose. Well, yes, I have. Once.”

Obi-Wan was never quite sure what memories had come back until Anakin started asking questions. He had told Anakin about his relationship with Satine before, of course, but after all that had happened to his friend Obi-Wan would be remiss to be impatient with him now for an impairment he could not control. And honestly, he didn’t quite mind repeating himself. He didn’t quite seem to mind anything when it came from this beloved friend.

Anakin continued to stare at him, eyebrows raised. Obi-Wan elaborated, “Satine, the former Duchess of Mandalore. When I was a Padawan, Qui-Gon and I were assigned to protect her, and over the year we spent together we ended up developing feelings.”

“Obi-Wan and a politician,” Anakin said in exaggerated wonderment, looking back down at his droid. “So what happened?”

“Not much,” Obi-Wan said, only sort of lying. “She went back to her old life, and I returned to mine.”

“Oh, come on,” Anakin said, waving his wrench in the air as if to egg him on. “You don’t just spend a year with someone and walk away just like that.”

_Not if that someone is you,_ Obi-Wan thought, but he just shook his head fondly. “I admit there was a time I would have left the Order to be with her, but I think we both knew it would have been the wrong choice.”

There was a small layer of anticipation hovering in the Force when Anakin asked, “Do you ever regret it?”

“Sometimes I used to wonder how my life would have turned out,” Obi-Wan said, reminiscent, and that was true. “But no, I don’t,” he added simply, “Because I would have never met you.”

Obi-Wan did not miss the shade of pink tinging Anakin’s cheeks. Not looking up, Anakin said, “Where is she now?”

A long, heavy pause. “She was murdered by Darth Maul during the Clone War.”

Anakin stopped cranking his wrench and looked up at him, crestfallen. Any crimes of the Sith were personal to him, Obi-Wan knew. Knew it all too well, in fact. Quietly, Anakin whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said gently, “But I’m all right. I will always honor her memory, and value the time we spent together, but truly, I’ve moved on.”

Anakin looked like he wanted to argue, and years ago he might have, but to his credit he accepted this answer and looked back down at his project. A few minutes passed in silence, and Obi-Wan had just tapped on a new article of union disputes arising on Cato Neimoidia when his friend said, clearly trying to be nonchalant —

“Anyone else?”

Obi-Wan looked back over to him. Anakin was decisively not meeting his eye. “Nothing serious, no. Why?”

Shrug. “Like I said, just curious.”

_Really now. Sure you are._

Another minute passed, and sure enough —

“But you probably had, like, encounters, right?”

“Encounters?”

“Yeah, like. Y’know. _Encounters._ Trysts.” Anakin paused. “Aggressive negotiations.”

Obi-Wan could not help but to laugh. Really, if he had not loved his man so much…. “Anakin. Why are you asking about my sex life?”

An over-exaggerated half-shrug. “Because that’s the kinda thing best friends talk about, of course.”

“Is it, now?”

“Your deflections indicate to me that your answer is probably ‘yes.’”

A playful roll of the eyes. “Yes, Anakin, I have had a perfectly healthy sex life, and I thank you for concern.”

His face angled down at his droid this whole time, Anakin gave him a satisfied nod. “Interesting.” A few more beats. “Any men?”

That was when Obi-Wan realized, and he couldn’t believe it had taken him this long. Oh. _Oh._ So _this_ was Anakin trying to flirt. _This_ , he realized suddenly, was what Padmé had fallen for all those years ago. Obi-Wan had thought it was amusing at the time, an awkward teenage boy flirting with an esteemed senator and past planetary monarch (and doing an endearingly dreadful job), but now — covering his mouth with his hand to hide his sudden smile, Obi-Wan couldn’t believe he’d fallen for it too. 

And he had. Oh, he had, and hard. He was quite sure Anakin didn’t actually _know_ this yet, hence the attempt at flirting — as much as he loved Anakin, his friend was quite oblivious — but Obi-Wan had really, truly, sincerely fallen for this unobservant amnesiac.

It wasn’t as if his feelings had come out of nowhere. They certainly hadn’t. They had, Obi-Wan had realized not too too long ago, been a long time coming. Before the Sith, before everything that had happened, he’d never thought of Anakin that way. It had simply never occurred to him. To be sure, yes, Anakin had grown into something of a — well, an attraction. Hair that shined gold in the sun, sun-kissed skin, long eyelashes. He’d spent just as much time in the training gyms as he had doing lightsaber drills, resulting in something of a chiseled physique. Obi-Wan had noticed these things, naturally, because of how much time they had always spent together, but he’d never quite thought of him in _that_ way.

Until, at one point, after the war was over and they settled into a peaceful life, it had involuntarily started to become _all_ he could think about.

That was an exaggeration, of course. Obi-Wan had important duties, including an obligation to finish Ahsoka’s training, and just because the war was over did not mean there were no conflicts arising throughout the galaxy. So, his more-than-platonic feelings for Anakin weren’t _all_ he thought about, at least not when he was out in the field. And when he _did_ have these thoughts he had released them, at first, meditated on them, restricted them to when he was falling asleep…and then later to when he was showering, or cooking, or flying, and then most notably when he was seated on their couch, arm slung around Anakin’s shoulders, playing with his hair, feeling the pleasant hum of his dearest, most beloved companion in the Force….

Anakin was infectious, Obi-Wan had found over the years. Feelings around Anakin, either by him or about him or around him, became magnified in the saturating presence of him in the Force. Feelings became irresistible. Influential. To use a word Anakin had once used to describe Padmé… _intoxicating_.

Obi-Wan had tried to fight it. Truly, he had. It had all felt so wrong — Anakin was his _Padawan_ , even if he hadn’t actually been such in years. And yes, granted, he’d heard enough rumors over the years of Padawans getting intimate with their masters after reaching a certain age, or after ascending to knighthood, but it really had never occurred to him. So when it _had_ , then, occurred to him, it had been a whole slew of emotions. Shame, embarrassment, a sting of guilt that he was such a failure to Anakin. And it was a waste of time above all else as surely, he’d thought, Anakin’s heart must have yearned for Padmé just as it always had. Surely he would find his way back to her, or maybe even had already, as hopelessly infatuated as he’d been before, and it wasn’t fair to either of them for Obi-Wan to try to interfere. 

Then, one day, when he had found himself shamefully unable to think of anything other than how it would feel to have Anakin’s mouth on his, straddling him, clinging to him with a desperate hunger, Obi-Wan caved to the impulse and went digging for information.

“How are things with Padmé?”

Anakin had looked up at him from the stew he’d had simmering on the stove, quizzical. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been seeing her, haven’t you?”

“What — seeing her, like, _seeing_ her?” Obi-Wan had nodded. “What makes you think that?”

“I just thought, after I saw you kissing her that day….”

Anakin would no longer meet his eye. “That day two _years_ ago? And you waited this long to ask me that, why?”

Blast. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Oh,” Anakin had said, closing the lid to the stew thoughtfully. Indeed, Anakin was known for not wanting to talk about things. “Well, honestly I’m not really… _into_ Padmé.”

It had been difficult to keep his relief from echoing into the Force. Still, Obi-Wan had felt a rush to his face and knew his cheeks were tinged with pink, a curse of his dratted complexion. He flushed too easily, something the Force could only control so much. He had turned to fiddle with something on the shelf next to him, pretending to straighten it. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“I thought I did have feelings for her, at first,” Anakin had confessed. “And kissing her was lovely and all, but…I’ve just never really felt that spark. I don’t know. She’s a great friend, and I love her in a way…. I really don’t blame her for what happened to me, not anymore, but I just….” He shrugged. “I just don’t think I can disassociate her with all that.”

Understandable enough, Obi-Wan had thought, but a surprise nonetheless. Oh. Maybe _he_ was the oblivious one.

And then he was smitten. Well, he had been before but now it was a free fall. Still, he had pledged to keep it to himself. Even putting aside the apprenticeship, the age difference, Obi-Wan did not for one moment want Anakin to feel pressured. He knew, as did Anakin, how much Obi-Wan had sacrificed for him, and he did not want Anakin to feel as if he needed to return the favor. So he kept quiet, did not deny his feelings to himself, hoped that they would pass in time as all things did, and accepted that he would never act on them….

Until, that was, Anakin started flirting with him. Because the thing about Anakin — while like Obi-Wan in many ways, Anakin was _not_ prone to flirting, had _never_ been interested in casual sexual relationships, and did not do anything by halves. When Anakin fell for someone, he didn’t just _fall_ , he crash-landed. And this time, like so many others, Obi-Wan was crashing right along with him.

So here, now, with Anakin fiddling around with another useless droid, asking Obi-Wan if he’d ever had sex with another man, it took all of Obi-Wan’s experience as a Jedi to suppress a delighted smile. All he did was wait a beat for dramatic effect and clear his throat, deciding to play along. “One or two.”

Obi-Wan could see from here that though Anakin’s face was angled away, his friend’s eyes were pointing in his own direction. “And say another prospective partner came along with whom you wanted to engage in something beyond simply the physical.” Obi-Wan rolled his eyes, still fighting that smile. Oh, goodness. “I expect that as a Jedi you would be obligated to conceal this arrangement in order to uphold the Order’s principles?”

“Well I wouldn’t exactly take someone into the Council chambers and start kissing them there, would I?’

“Oof, no. I don’t think Windu would enjoy that.”

Obi-Wan laughed. He looked down at his datapad, pretending to scroll through it the same way Anakin was pretending to connect wires inside his droid. “Even so,” he said, “I will remind you I’m the one who resigned from the Jedi Council on account of embracing attachments. Do you really think I’d let them stop me now?”

Nodding to himself, Anakin said, “So, theoretically speaking, it is a possibility that you would once again be interested in pursuing a relationship. Y’know with — someone. Theoretically.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but to tease him, it was far too much fun. He put his hand to his beard and pretended to think. “I suppose if the right person came along, then yes.”

Anakin looked up finally and a goopy grin filled his face, lighting up his eyes. Then, he blinked a few times and went back to his droid in a hurry. Obi-Wan didn’t miss him shaking some hair into his face as if to hide his mirth.

Obi-Wan couldn’t believe _this_ was the person he loved. On second thought, no — he could not have made a better choice.

The conversation was left there, and Anakin didn’t say anything else. He went back to his project, and Obi-Wan went back to his reading, and he got the sense that they were both trying to figure out where to go from there.

For a while they went nowhere, exactly. Life was the same, and they were already impossibly close. Obi-Wan himself went back and forth on what he should do, on whether he should be the first to speak up, and he pegged his reluctance to do so on the decades of rigid Jedi discipline that still whispered to him _attachment is forbidden_. Yes, it was, he thought, but he didn’t _care_ anymore, remember? But he did. He did care. He didn’t, but he did. He _was_ attached, he’d admitted it to Yoda and Windu for goodness sake, but there were days when it still felt wrong. Felt like a betrayal. Felt like a weakness. Well, he told himself now, perhaps he would just have to learn to be weak.

Most days, he was content. Content to follow their normal routine, to keep their emotional independence the way it was. Then, as time went on, there were less of those days, and then even less, and more days instead where he would stand in the shower, picturing in his mind’s eye his own body covering Anakin’s, pushing into him, warm and sweaty and hard. Imagined going down on him, licking him, imagined the moans, and that was when Obi-Wan would turn the shower from hot to cold and try to bring himself back into the moment like the good, proper Jedi Master he was supposed to be.

Being away from Coruscant was becoming difficult. Ahsoka didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong, thank the Force, so Obi-Wan thought perhaps he hadn’t betrayed his vows _quite_ that much, supposed that there were as many advantages to his decades of Jedi training as there were disadvantages. He had no difficulty performing his field duties, solving disputes, bringing parties to compromise, catching criminals, stopping assassins. It was instead at night that he found himself struggling, unable to doze off without Anakin sleeping like a log right next to him. It was on the trip away from Coruscant, his forehead still tickling from where Anakin had kissed it, quipping about how he’d “have to lean down too far to kiss you on the cheek, unless you have a box to stand on.”

It was on the trip _back_ to Coruscant after a week away, then, that Obi-Wan decided he did not wish to wait any longer.

But he was still Obi-Wan Kenobi, esteemed Jedi Master and General, and he was known for being patient. He could be patient here, too. If he chose. 

He spent his time in hyperspace thinking of how to go about this, and as it turned out, planning an impromptu first date with Anakin Skywalker proved far more difficult than coming up with schemes and strategies during the Clone War.

But…hmm…well…he did have _one_ idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so glad you guys are into this. Every chapter gets better than the last IMO I hope you think so too! ❤️ thank you everyone


	3. Real Love

* * *

_i’ve been feeling weak without it_

_all i want is real, real love_

* * *

Anakin was having a hard time concentrating lately. 

Of course, when doing something that actually _mattered_ he could focus just fine. Like flying, or sparring, or using the Force. Or, for example, killing the most powerful Sith Lord in a thousand years. But life was good, now, life was easy, and maybe he could sometimes, occasionally afford to not be totally in the moment even if it _would_ make Yoda stab him in the gut with his walking stick (not based on a real example). 

Presently he was indeed not very present, because why bother being _here_ when he could instead let his mind drift off to how badly he’d like to push Obi-Wan against a wall the moment he got home and press their bodies together, both of them hard and eager and willing….

In the actual present Ahsoka was saying something, and for a single terrifying moment Anakin thought with a jolt that he had let his inappropriate thoughts out into the Force around him —

“What about Obi-Wan?”

Ahsoka looked at him, puzzled. “Huh?”

“You said something about Obi-Wan.”

Her brow markings contorted as if to say, _you’re kidding, right?_ She pointed at the piece of machinery before her, the whole reason they’d come down to this junkyard in the first place. “I said _only one_ , as in, this dampening vent is the only one they have, and it doesn’t fit our specifications.”

“Oh,” Anakin said dumbly. He looked down at the equipment. “I can probably make this work….”

She crossed her arms over her chest, skeptical. “You’re good, Skyguy, but no one is _that_ good. This is way too big, you’d have to redesign the entire engine.”

Oh. Oof. She was right.

He was really slipping these days, huh?

“So you’re not buyin’?” the Ithorian junk dealer said through his speech translator, and a thought of _damn Jedi wastin’ my time_ rang through the Force.

“Not unless you have a set of F-60 Corellian dampening vents,” Ahsoka said, and the dealer shook his head and shooed them out of the shop.

Ahsoka didn’t say anything until they were back at their speeder, and by then Anakin was daydreaming about the way Obi-Wan’s cream-colored tunics fit so nicely over his shoulders, and how the fabric was so much more deceptively soft than it looked….

Then Ahsoka elbowed him in the gut.

“Huh?”

“I _said_ what’s got you so distracted?”

_Damn._ Anakin just shrugged. Ahsoka rolled her eyes and reached up to knock her knuckles against his skull as if to bring his senses back. He swatted her arm away, laughing. “Stop that, I have brain damage.”

“Oh, whoops, how could I forget?”

Anakin shook his head, both at her words and to get these thoughts out of his head. “I guess I’ll have to order the dampening vents.”

“Assuming they actually arrive this time,” Ahsoka said, climbing into the speeder and leaning her head over the side as they took off, watching the people on the surface grow smaller and smaller. “Might as well to just go to Corellia at this point. Would probably be faster.”

“Might as well,” he echoed. “Maybe Obi-Wan will want to go.”

“Force please save me,” Ahsoka said, and though he kept his gaze ahead as he flew he could feel her eyes on him. “Get a room. You’re acting like you’re in love with him.”

The laugh that came out of him was nervous and _very_ embarrassing, but Anakin didn’t think she noticed.

They went back to the temple and dropped off the few parts they _did_ buy in the hangar, then parted ways with a wave. Free to daydream again without interference, Anakin slowly wandered back to the apartment, thinking simply of how nice it would be to wander these halls with Obi-Wan as he often did, except in his daydream their hands were clasped together, swinging idly between them, the Jedi all around them giving their complete acceptance….

Ugh. This was getting out of control.

The apartment was dark when he entered and he barely noticed at first, until he saw some sort of light flickering — _flickering_? — out of the kitchen, and he realized something was off. Not something _bad_ , necessarily, but he’d misinterpreted the Force’s signals before…. With two fingers on his lightsaber hilt just for good measure, he made a cautious approach. When Anakin poked his head around the doorframe, he saw —

_what the hell —_

The lights were off save a trio of candles in the middle of the dining table, wicks dancing along to subtle air currents in the room. The light fixtures along the backsplash had been set to a rosy orange-pink hue reminiscent of a sunset. Obi-Wan was leaning against the counter as if nothing was off, surveying Anakin with an amused curve of his lips.

“Good evening,” Obi-Wan said, and there was a hint of something like suggestiveness in his voice. “I hope you’re hungry.”

Speechless, Anakin gestured between his friend and the table. “What is this?”

“Dinner,” Obi-Wan said simply, turning to remove two takeout dishes from the warmer, then settling into his seat at the table after setting the food down. He looked at Anakin expectantly. “I hope you haven’t eaten?”

“No,” Anakin said, hesitant, because he had daydreamed this exact thing before and really didn’t want to get his hopes up.… It was innocent, he was sure, because Obi-Wan always had a flair for the dramatic (not that he would admit it) and he liked cozy things like candles and warm blankets and sunsets, but this was a little, uh — this was _a lot._

But Anakin _was_ hungry, and he would recognize that sudden spicy fragrance anywhere — _chunoda roya_ from Buliara’s Cantina down on the surface, the one place on Coruscant he would eat from every day if he could. So, letting go of his hesitance like a good former Jedi, he sat across from Obi-Wan and savored that first bite of food. The heat, the texture, the combination of flavors, _mmm…._ Then he caught sight of Obi-Wan’s first cautious bite of his own meal, and Anakin laughed as his friend’s eyes started to water.

“You get the mildest thing on the menu and it’s _still_ too spicy for you,” Anakin teased, food in his mouth. Obi-Wan never did like this _uncivilized_ type of Outer Rim cuisine. Sticking his fork in a spice-covered root vegetable Anakin added, “I wish you could taste my mom’s _mookee kaloorah_ , it would set your mouth on fire. I’ll make it for you sometime.”

Obi-Wan took a great gulp of water. “I’d like to keep my tastebuds, thank you.”

“That’s what the blue milk is for.”

In between bites they talked. About current events, about how their respective days had been. About the parts Anakin had salvaged from the junkyards, about Obi-Wan’s lunch with Depa Billaba. All the while Anakin tried not to think about the way the candlelight danced in Obi-Wan’s eyes, or the fact that Obi-Wan had taken time out of his day to get takeout from a restaurant he didn’t even like just because he knew it was Anakin’s favorite, or how his skin tingled when Obi-Wan reached across the table to wipe a bit of yellow spice off Anakin’s lower lip….

_Oh, Force._ This man was trying to kill him.

He really couldn’t help it, okay? All Anakin could think was _Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan_ , and Obi-Wan himself certainly wasn’t making this any easier. Anakin’s lip tingled from the touch and he wanted more, so much more, there was nothing else he could think about but how badly he wanted more…he watched, hyperaware, as Obi-Wan absentmindedly switched his fork to his left hand and placed his right idly on the table top, and surely it was a meaningless, mindless action but what if it wasn’t, Anakin thought, what if it _wasn’t_ ….

_Ugh_. The urge was overwhelming. The longing. Slowly, while chatting purposefully about the water shortage happening on Sullust, Anakin wandered his flesh hand over to Obi-Wan’s and came to rest upon it, the touch so simple but so intimate, and when Obi-Wan casually laced their fingers together as if it were nothing Anakin thought he might die right then and there.

They were no strangers to touching each other. It was not uncommon for them, or unusual — arms around each other as they watched a holofilm, or head on the other’s lap, not to mention the fact that they often slept in the same bed, for Force’s sake. But even that, somehow, was a far cry from holding hands at dinner, scented candles flickering in between them.

But Anakin still wanted _more._ More, more, more more more. More Obi-Wan. He just wanted _Obi-Wan._

They fell into silence. A trusting, loving silence. Loving, loving, loving. Anakin loved him. He loved him. Oh, Force, he loved him. He wanted more of this and he wanted _this_ more. He wanted to hold hands forever, he wanted to shove everything off this table and launch himself across it into Obi-Wan’s arms. He wanted to press their lips together and press their bodies together and be with him every night, every day, in the Force and in the physical world, he wanted to stop longing and stop yearning, he wanted to _act_ , he wanted them to be _together_ , he —

Damn. _Damn._ He was a free man. Anakin could do whatever he wanted now. And he _wanted_ Obi-Wan. And he thought maybe, _maybe_ , maaaaybe Obi-Wan wanted him, too.

Obi-Wan was just sitting there, peaceful and content, enjoying this atmosphere he’d created, the tiniest of smiles curving at the edges of his mouth — Anakin looked away, trying to find the words. Glanced at Obi-Wan again, then away, then down at their interlocked fingers, where Obi-Wan’s thumb was gently tracing against his own, deep in his ruminations….

_Be subtle, Skywalker_ , he told himself. Deep breath. He swallowed the lump in his throat. Another deep breath, and then —

“I can’t take it anymore,” he blurted out, and Obi-Wan looked at him patiently, that tiniest of tiny smiles never faltering. Anakin’s heart was pounding in his chest. _Say it say it say it._ “Obi-Wan — I love you.” He winced. His voice was shaking. “I — I know that’s not news. But I think I might be, y’know, _in_ love with you? And I don’t expect you to feel the same! I get it, really I do, but I can’t keep this inside anymore, I have to let it out —”

From across the table, he heard, “Anakin —”

“No no no, I just have to — it’s okay if you don’t feel the same, it won’t change anything, I’ll just live with it — I would never want to ruin what we have, but that’s just it, because I think we might _have_ something, you know? Something I never expected, and I — uh —”

“ _Anakin_ —”

“It’s just, every moment I’m with you is the best moment of my life,” he confessed, not letting Obi-Wan butt in because if he did Anakin would never get this out. His heart was gonna _burst._ “And I just want as many of those moments as I can get, and whether it’s romantic or not I don’t _care_ as long as I just get to be _with_ you —”

Obi-Wan rested his chin in his hand and waited.

“I don’t care if it’s here in the temple or, I don’t know, on Naboo or — or Saleucami or Utapau or even Tatooine — okay maybe not there, but anywhere, anywhere you want to go, or whatever you want to do I just want to be there with you in any capacity. I just want to spend my life with you.”

Finally out of breath Anakin stopped, and lifted his gaze from Obi-Wan’s empty plate up to Obi-Wan himself, sitting there with his chin in his hand and a deeply amused look on his face. For a long, agonizing moment Anakin thought, _oh look at him oh hell what have I done I’ve ruined everything oh no, oh no —_

And then, with the tiniest, littlest quirk of Obi-Wan’s eyebrows, Anakin realized like a kick in the gut —

“You _knew?”_

Obi-Wan burst into laughter. “You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are, my friend.”

Friend _. Friend?!_ “You knew I felt like this and you didn’t say anything?”

His _friend_ just shook his head, clearly enjoying himself. “Anakin. Why do you think I set up this romantic dinner?”

“Romantic —” Anakin balked. Oh hell, oh Force. “You’re making fun of me!”

“I am not,” Obi-Wan said, that usual twinkle in his eye that made Anakin _melt._ “I’m teasing you. It’s different.”

“Teasing —” Anakin gasped, and his face fell into his hands with a groan. “This is so embarrassing. Why did you let me go _on_ like that? I’m an _idiot_ —”

Obi-Wan was downright _giggling_ now. Well, at least _one_ of them was enjoying this. “You are not an idiot.”

“I _am_ though,” Anakin groaned, and suddenly he needed to escape, this was so embarrassing, _so_ embarrassing — he stood up, saying, “Just forget it, forget all of it, forget I said anything —”

“Anakin — _Anakin —_ ”

Obi-Wan’s hand closed around his wrist and Anakin allowed himself to be tugged gently back. They were facing each other now, illuminated by rosy lights and flickering candles, and Anakin wanted so badly to melt into Obi-Wan’s arms and to stay there for all of eternity but he couldn’t because life was cruel and Obi-Wan only thought of him as a _friend_ —

“You are,” Obi-Wan said slowly, “The most oblivious person I’ve ever met, and I can’t believe _you’re_ the one I had to fall for.”

Oh.

_Wait_.

Huh?

Anakin felt his eyes widen. “What —”

And then Obi-Wan’s lips were on his, and Anakin’s heart was pounding so hard he thought, _yup. Yeah. Uh-huh. This is how I’m gonna die._

And with Obi-Wan’s hand coming up to cup the side of his face, Obi-Wan’s other arm snaking around Anakin’s lower back to pull him in close, their bodies pressing against each other as if they had been crafted from the same stone and were finally fit back together after a lifetime apart — Anakin decided he was _perfectly_ okay with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know this is a cliffhanger but I have it on good authority (mine) that it's worth it
> 
> THANK YOU for being here today my dudes. by process of elimination you can tell that the next and final chapter will have The Sex…see you soooooon
> 
> just gonna acknowledge the song lyrics…they’re carly rae jepsen and i’m NOT sorry for it...for the sake of dropping another quote i'm gonna "keep you wanting mo-o-o-ore"


	4. He Needs Me

* * *

_can never give him enough_

_enough of my love_

* * *

It was, surprisingly, _Anakin_ that pulled away from the kiss first, looking at Obi-Wan with an almost childlike concern and wonder. “You’re not just humoring me, are you?”

It took everything Obi-Wan had not to roll his eyes. “How is the most Force-sensitive person alive also the most oblivious? Come on, then.”

He took Anakin by the hand and guided him to the couch in the living area, feeling the fabric sink down and submit to their weight. They sat close, bodies angled toward one another, knees touching. “No, Anakin, I am _not_ humoring you. Yes, I want to be with you. Yes, I am in love with you too.”

It felt odd to admit it out loud — odd, but rather _refreshing_. Tangible. It was no longer a fantasy. Finally, it was real.

“You are,” Anakin breathed, not asking a question but rather as if he were realizing that a theory he’d had was true. Relief surged through the Force like a warm breeze. “You’re in love with me….”

“I am,” Obi-Wan confirmed, “Though I admit I never expected to be.”

“Me neither,” Anakin said, staring at him as if in a trance. “How long?”

“A little while,” Obi-Wan admitted. “I wasn’t going to act on it until I realized you felt the same.”

Anakin’s brows knitted together. “How did you —”

“You are many things, my friend,” Obi-Wan said fondly, “And subtle is not one of them.” When Anakin’s face showed no comprehension, he added, “You tried to flirt with me. _You._ ”

“But you didn’t flirt back!”

“I absolutely did,” Obi-Wan said, laughing. “You simply did not pick up on the, ah, _subtleties._ ”

Anakin clapped a hand to his forehead. “So what, you set up a romantic dinner to get me to confess?”

“Actually,” Obi-Wan said, “ _I_ was going to confess, but you, as usual, were hasty to rush into things.”

“Are you _actually_ lecturing me right now?” Anakin said with an exhilarated grin.

“As I said,” Obi-Wan replied, “I’m teasing you.”

They sat there, wonder and contentment and a mutual understanding flowing between them now, staring into each other’s eyes. Still, Obi-Wan could see a flash of hesitation, a flicker of self-doubt perhaps, lingering in Anakin’s gaze.

“You’re not —” Anakin started, searching for words. “I don’t know. It’s not weird, at all, for you? The age difference, or — being your Padawan?”

Immediately, Obi-Wan understood. For all his confidence on the battlefield and in the Force, Anakin was still so insecure. He couldn’t be blamed for it, not after everything that had happened to him, but he had so much difficulty sometimes accepting that anyone could love him as much as he loved them. Obi-Wan raked his fingers slowly through Anakin’s hair. “If you’re afraid I’m going to change my mind and leave you, I don’t know how else I can convince you that will never happen.”

Anakin graced him with an apologetic grin. “I know. Sorry. Maybe one day I’ll stop needing reminders.”

“At first,” Obi-Wan conceded, “When I realized how I felt, I’ll admit I was wary. I’d never felt for you like this before, and I don’t know if I would feel this way if you’d never gone through what you did. Our relationship before was intimate and rewarding, but though you had my complete trust I’m not certain I had yours. We were close, but in a way always so distant.”

“That’s what Padmé said, too,” Anakin said with a deep, thoughtful frown. “Sometimes I wonder what kind of a person I really was.”

“You had already been through far too much even then,” Obi-Wan said sadly. “And — well, I don’t want to say his name, not now, but _he_ was committed to doing everything he could to manipulate you. I feel a fool for not realizing it at the time, but he was trying to break you down bit by bit. Sowing the seeds of doubt. Trying to twist you against the Jedi, and against your friends.” He glanced back at Anakin, and quickly added — “But he would have failed, as he did in the end.”

“You know we don’t agree on that,” Anakin replied. “I _saw_ it, Obi-Wan. The empire. Me as a Sith, a _real_ Sith, not just an attack dog like I was. Darkness like a cancer in the galaxy.”

“You are a good person, Anakin. You must have faith in yourself.”

“I do now,” Anakin said vehemently. “The Sith are gone, the Force is in balance, and I’m _happy._ But I just — I want you to know what you’re signing up for.”

“I love you, Anakin,” Obi-Wan said, making sure Anakin was looking at him. “I know I have trouble saying it sometimes, but it’s true. I always have, and I always will, and that’s all I need to know.”

Anakin reached up a hand and fiddled with the fabric of Obi-Wan’s collar, breaking eye contact. “And you’re okay with keeping it from the Council?”

That was something Obi-Wan had thought about a great deal, going into this. He respected the Council, loved the Order, and he told Anakin as much. “Even if I do leave the Order some day, those things will always be true,” he said. “Choosing between you and them would not mean the Jedi are no longer my family.”

“But I don’t want you to _have_ to choose.”

Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hands in both of his own. “I already have.”

It was true. He wasn’t sure Anakin could ever really understand just _how_ true. On Naboo sixteen years ago, Obi-Wan had told Yoda. _I will train Anakin. Without the approval of the Council if I must._ Three years ago, when Anakin escaped the Sith and the Council had questioned his loyalty. _If you will not allow me to help him recover in the temple, then I will help him somewhere else._ It had never been a question for him, not even for one minute. It had taken Obi-Wan himself a long time to realize just how far he was willing to go for this man, but really — there was no limit. If it came down to a choice between Anakin and the Jedi, in the end, he had already chosen. He had committed himself time and time again, and he did not intend on stopping now.

So that was it. Anakin seemed to accept this now, finally, and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “I want to spend my life with you.”

Obi-Wan put two fingers under Anakin’s chin and led his gaze upward. “You will.” Then, anticipation laying heavy on them in the Force like a weighted blanket he leaned in, taking in the sight of Anakin’s long lashes and sun-kissed skin and the scar under his right eye….then their lips touched, and the Force sang in a melodic chorus, telling him this was exactly where he needed to be.

Anakin seemed to melt into the kiss. He was masked in the lingering scent of engine oil, something Obi-Wan expected he’d have to get used to. He tasted of spice, earthy vegetables, salt. Always hasty, always eager to move, he pressed himself as closely to Obi-Wan as he could, arms moving to cling to Obi-Wan’s shoulders, gloved mechno threading into Obi-Wan’s hair. Unsatisfied, Anakin shifted in his seat, swung a leg over Obi-Wan’s hips until he was straddling him, pushing all their weight into the couch, his excitement exploding in the Force like fireworks and pressing hard into Obi-Wan’s abdomen.

“Anakin,” he gasped under the weight, when his partner’s mouth finally moved away from his. “What have I told you about slowing down?”

Anakin just shook his head, lips grazing down Obi-Wan’s beard and coming to rest at the crook of his neck. “Waited too long.”

“I’ll make you wait longer if you don’t take it easy.”

“Mm,” Anakin hummed. “No, you won’t.”

“Slow,” Obi-Wan repeated, breathing the word out as his eyes fluttered shut, Anakin’s lips hot against his neck. “We have all the time now.”

It started gradually, for indeed they had all the time in the universe. Stolen kisses, deep and passionate in private, quick and fleeting where they might be noticed. Obi-Wan wasn’t exactly afraid of getting caught — life was different now, and resigning from the Council made him feel freer, independent, perhaps even a little _daring_. A bit like Qui-Gon actually, he realized one day, and that thought was liberating. But still, he did not wish to go parading a romantic relationship with the Chosen One around the temple, respected the ancient rules of the Order forbidding attachment even if he no longer practiced them himself. 

The relationship did not take over their lives. There were still daytime duties, interspersed with the occasional month-long mission, and Obi-Wan was beginning to think maybe this life, this path, really was not for him. 

He loved being a Jedi, he longed to help those in need, the innocent. It brought him a sense of peace to know he effected positive change throughout the galaxy, and to know that Ahsoka was near the end of her training. Ahsoka, as it turned out, seemed to be the opposite — more and more, she admitted, she was starting to think she _didn’t_ want to leave. It felt strange, she said, to imagine a life where she wasn’t serving. She wanted to be involved. She wanted to help. Obi-Wan did, too, but… _but_ , well….

It wasn’t _only_ Anakin that made him consider leaving the Order. Or — perhaps he would never truly leave. Perhaps something more akin to retirement. The war was long over, and as more Padawans were knighted to replace the hundreds of fallen, Obi-Wan’s talents were needed less and less. The Negotiator, they called him, idolizing him, but the truth was he was just a man. A man in his forties now, whose body was beginning to catch up with him. His old wartime fractures ached when it rained. In the morning, waking up, his back cracked in ten different places. Being a field Jedi was rewarding, yes, but it was also exhausting. And now, with this blossoming relationship giving him cause, Obi-Wan was really beginning to think — perhaps he had earned this. Earned a break. Earned the chance to rest.

He confessed all this one night to Anakin, who was nothing but supportive. “Your name isn’t famous for no reason,” his partner said, amused. Anakin’s name was famous, too, Obi-Wan reminded him, and indeed they had been plastered on the holonet during the war as the two most successful Jedi in the fleet. Anakin pointed this last part out now. “You did more during the war than most other Jedi. And you killed a Sith, _and_ you helped me kill Sidious. Give yourself a break, Obi-Wan. You deserve it.”

“I think I will,” Obi-Wan thought aloud, and Anakin leaned in to press a kiss to his forehead.

It wasn’t set in stone. It wasn’t a commitment. Life could change overnight, like it had when Qui-Gon had died, like it had when Anakin had been captured. The future was always in motion, and for now he would allow the current to take him along. Perhaps, he thought, he would leave after Ahsoka was knighted. Perhaps he would not yet be ready. Truly, he didn’t know what he would do with himself if he retired now. He was so used to being on the move, now, and sometimes it was hard to follow his own advice and slow down.

Oh. Maybe he spent too much time with Anakin.

No, no, he thought. Not nearly enough.

He went on a mission, then came back. Left, and came back. Finally, as he entered their apartment after being away for two weeks, and Anakin pushed him against the wall with his lips all over Obi-Wan’s face, he decided to take a page out of Anakin’s book and speed up.

They went into his bedroom, bright noon sunlight coming in through the blinds, that fragrantly sweet aroma of blossoms from his collection of plants reminding him he was home. He pulled off his boots and his belt and pushed Anakin onto the bed, pulling off his own clothes before moving to work on Anakin’s —

And then he had to stop. Obi-Wan had seen some of Anakin’s scars before, and it was hardly news that they were there, but seeing them, _touching_ them so intimately was something else. He hadn’t thought of it at first, his gaze unfocused as he slipped Anakin’s tunic from his shoulders, pressing kisses across his bare chest, hands graceful and sure as they tugged off his leggings. It wasn’t until his partner was completely and shamelessly uncovered, and notably aroused, that Obi-Wan had involuntarily found himself staring right into a collection of scars and burns and long-healed wounds that only someone subjected to a thousand terrors could sport. A sharp inhale filled his lungs, and he had to back away.

“It’s okay,” Anakin assured him, immediately understanding, not visibly bothered at all by being so on display, so _looked_ at, even after everything he had been through, after being treated as an _object_ ….

“It’s not,” Obi-Wan replied, a soft sigh escaping his lips. “I’m so sorry —”

“I told you,” Anakin said firmly, “You have nothing to apologize to me for. Ever.” His gaze softened, a small smile forming on his lips. “Besides, I knew this would probably happen. Go ahead. My body is yours now.” He gestured toward his naked self, relaxed on the bed, somehow fully at ease.

Obi-Wan shuddered. “Don’t say it like that.”

Anakin reached for his hand, and pulled Obi-Wan down to sit beside him. He did, skin on skin, close and intimate but not quite anymore in a sexual way. “You know what I mean,” Anakin said. “I’m yours because that’s what I want.”

Frowning deeply, Obi-Wan looked, taking it all in, mind entirely distant now from any further sexual thought. There were just — so _many._ Scars. Oh, Anakin, _Anakin._ Down his legs, all over his skin. Healed white and red burn tissue stretching across his abdomen, bumpy and elevated welts across his sides. Cuts of all shapes and sizes, thin or thick, long or short. There were more on Anakin’s back, too, he knew, because some had been there before — residual marks from a childhood in slavery, stretched and distorted as he’d grown up. But this — though nearly three years old at the earliest, now, these were too fresh.

“I don’t think I can keep going,” Obi-Wan said. “I just — owe you my full attention, and I don’t think I can give it now.”

“That’s okay,” Anakin said simply, shifting in even closer. “I just want to be with you.”

They spent the afternoon gently tracing scars on each other’s naked bodies, recalling the stories behind them. Obi-Wan had his fair share of them as well, to be sure. This one here from a nasty gundark situation, those burns on Anakin from the MagnaGuards on Serenno, a few here or there on each of them from Dooku…. Obi-Wan recounted the story of Anakin’s facial scar, a memory that had not yet returned to its bearer. Eventually they dozed off, each in their own time, skin on skin, ethereal presences twisting together in the Force….

Before long they went back to it, and this time Obi-Wan’s only acknowledgement of Anakin’s scars was to kiss them softly on his way down. 

Anakin was not experienced, had never been with another man (Obi-Wan didn’t know for sure but suspected that Anakin’s only other partner had been a certain Senator), had never been taken before, so they went slow. Very slow, night-by-night, enjoying themselves, exploring each other’s bodies. He would not for one moment allow Anakin to be uncomfortable, but Anakin didn’t need to say anything for Obi-Wan to know that he savored every moment, enjoyed having Obi-Wan’s attention completely focused on him. As it turned out, the one place Anakin was not in a hurry was during sex. Unlike the battlefield, or meditation, or eating, Anakin was finally content to slow down and enjoy the ride. The ecstatic, pleasurable ride.

As his former teacher, and friend, and his partner bonded and stitched together in the Force as two halves of a whole, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure anything brought himself greater relief and joy than seeing Anakin finally, for once, content. Content to be slow. And as it further turned out, that relief and joy in turn channelled into — put an uncivilized way, the most inordinately hot and intimate sex Obi-Wan had ever had. It did not hurt that his partner was sculpted from warm desert sand and, indeed, the Force itself.

Anakin turned out to be quite _vocal_ , and for some reason this did not surprise him. Tiny, excited whimpers, a more pleasurable sort of whine than usual, and the best — deep, guttural groans from the back of the throat. Frequent vocalizations, involuntary assurances that Obi-Wan was doing quite well in his endeavors. All of this, however, paled in comparison to the explosive confusion of pleasure in the Force. There, in their own private universe, having sex with the most Force-sensitive person in the galaxy proved to be unlike anything Obi-Wan had ever known.

In all of Obi-Wan’s experience, the feelings that sang in the Force during sex were just as enticing as any physical sensations, but with Anakin it really was as if he were in two places at once. Like now, going down on him, Anakin hard in his mouth, Anakin’s body here and his spirit dancing with Obi-Wan’s in perfect harmony…a few of Obi-Wan’s fingers opening Anakin up, moving in and out, acclimating his muscles….

Anakin’s breath hitched as Obi-Wan’s mouth took in more of him, something Obi-Wan had, ahem, a fair bit of experience with…sucking on him, Obi-Wan could tell Anakin was close as he grabbed fistfuls of sheets — he never lasted long, but he was getting better — and soon he came with a whine and pleasure so intense that for a moment Obi-Wan _was_ him in the Force, could feel the rotation of the planet and the life force of every person around them for klicks and klicks….

“I’m ready,” Anakin moaned as soon as he’d caught his breath, and his muscles had relaxed. “Inside. Please.”

Obi-Wan came down from the overwhelming sensation with a few blinks. “Are you sure?”

Anakin responded by rolling over onto a pillow.

They’d been working on opening him up for their last several nights together, first Obi-Wan’s mouth getting Anakin used to the touch (“Never shave your beard” _,_ Anakin had pleaded), then a finger inside him, then two, then three. Now, Obi-Wan pressed a kiss to one of the scars on Anakin’s back and said, “Tell me if you need me to stop.”

A few more drops of a lubricant, warming upon touch, on himself and inside Anakin…one hand drifting smooth over his partner’s skin while the other poised himself to enter, easing himself inside…Anakin winced, and Obi-Wan stopped moving, letting him adjust….

“M’kay,” Anakin muttered after a time, squirming. “You’re, um…quite well-endowed.”

Obi-Wan laughed, edged in more, pausing and waiting for Anakin, implicit trust and understanding swirling almost tangibly between them…when he pulled out for the first time, Anakin moaned deep in his throat and pressed his face into his pillow.

“Is that all right?” Obi-Wan whispered.

“Mmm….”

He shook his head fondly and got to work, setting a pace, feeling and feeling and feeling, watching Anakin for cues, slowly lowering himself down until he was propped up on his arms, privately thanking the universe that he was here. Anakin was tight, warm, and clearly enjoying himself, grunting into the pillow with each thrust…his back curved, stretching to give Obi-Wan more room, moaning unintelligibly what sounded like _I love you…faster…oh…harder…oh, I love you…._

_Oh,_ Obi-Wan thought, pressing a kiss to Anakin’s shoulder blade, this boy. This man. His beautiful fireball of a man, lighting up his senses like fireworks. _So sentimental. So demonstrative._ Another kiss to the top of Anakin’s spine. “I love you too….”

“Oh,” Anakin moaned, his head shifting back. “Say that again….”

Obi-Wan whispered it as he lowered himself down further onto his elbows now, their bodies as close as could be, their very selves in the Force even closer. Their essences merging into one, physical sensation accentuating ecstasy in the Force, everything in the third dimension and Force dimension was just _Anakin, Anakin, Anakin_. His partner’s thrill was a supernova, his _ohs_ and _uhs_ bounded through the Force like drum beats, and with every thrust of his hips Obi-Wan felt closer and closer, both to Anakin and to pure physical release….

He wanted to speak, to say something, engage in simple but effective talk, anything to let Anakin know how much he wanted him, but his senses were entirely overwhelmed…. In his bliss he wondered what Anakin must be feeling, Anakin whose sensitivity to others’ emotions was so all-encompassing…who had been through so much pain and heartache and now deserved nothing more than all the love Obi-Wan had to offer, and all the physical and Force pleasure he could give….

His movements became more uneven as he grew close, and Obi-Wan allowed his hips to move almost of their own accord in tune with the physical sensation, the euphoria, and Anakin’s grunts were doing it for him almost as much as the tightness…Obi-Wan rested his forehead in the crook of Anakin’s neck, breathing heavy against Anakin’s shoulder blade…very close, now, Obi-Wan found himself matching his partner’s vocalizations, involuntary groans escaping his lungs with each push of his hips….

With one final thrust and a great release, Obi-Wan pushed their bodies together as he came, as deep as he could be inside his partner, who squirmed and wriggled and enjoyed and then released a great moan into the pillow. 

For a long, perfect moment, Obi-Wan lay there with his weight pressed into Anakin’s, who had gone limp and boneless but for his heaving, steadying breaths…the Force was alight with contentment and relief, saturating Obi-Wan in Anakin’s presence, overcoming his senses, almost numbing him. He didn’t want to move, and Anakin seemed content to have him there, but eventually Obi-Wan pushed himself up, sat up, took a moment with a cloth to clean them up and then ran the fingers of one hand down Anakin’s back, feeling his skin, reveling in the shiver that went down his partner’s spine as he traced it, and suddenly he needed to see his face —

“Let me look at you,” Obi-Wan whispered, and on command Anakin rolled over and grinned lazily up at him. His eyes were droopy, his presence blissful.

“You’re good at that,” he murmured and Obi-Wan chuckled, leaning over to press their lips together and then collapse beside him. Anakin’s mechno hooked around Obi-Wan’s shoulder and pulled him in closer, in for another kiss, and then rolled so he was half on top of Obi-Wan, their legs intertwined. Obi-Wan laced his fingers into Anakin’s hair.

_So clingy,_ he thought fondly, and he would not have it any other way.

Into his neck, Anakin breathed, “We earned this.”

Yes, Obi-Wan thought as his partner drifted off, numbing the intensity of the Force as he went. They absolutely had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone read this who did not read Asylum I’d love for you to let me know! I’m seeing a lot of names in the kudos that I’ve never seen before which is awesome, and I’d love to know how this reads on it’s own. I wanted to write a sequel to Asylum, and I wanted to write an Obikin piece, but one thing led to another and they just ended up being the same story. Which is great for me as a reader of my own fics, but I’ll admit I would have liked to have reached a larger audience. That said, I’m in love with this story and I have no regrets.
> 
> And that’s it from me! End of an era right here. Thank you THANK YOU everyone for reading my stories. Lockdown’s over so I’m not really writing anymore but I’ll be around. Take it sleazy!


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